


Playing Our Roles

by alwaysthrowsscissors



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clothed Dean Winchester, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Commercials, Crack, Crack but Make it Sexy, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Kiss, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Time Having Sex, Dry Humping, Episode: s05e08 Changing Channels, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Fuck Or Get Stuck In TV Land, M/M, Missing Scene, Naked Sam Winchester, Oral Sex, Porn, Season/Series 05, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 09:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30019920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysthrowsscissors/pseuds/alwaysthrowsscissors
Summary: The Winchester brothers are stuck in the fever dream that is TV Land. Things start taking a sexy turn as they find themselves in commercials and shows where they must play their roles no matter how taboo and naughty the situation is.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 111
Collections: Every Time We Touch: A First-Time Wincest Fest





	Playing Our Roles

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is missing scenes from Changing Channels for the Every Time We Touch: A First-Time Wincest Fest.
> 
> HEADS UP: Although the boys both have a fun time in this fic, and the tone is light and cracky, there is an element of coercion i.e. they feel like they are forced by the Trickster/Gabriel to play their roles to get out of TV Land. If this squicks you, go no further!

It appeared to Dean that he was now on a bench in a snowy park lit with soft, dated lighting. Moments before, the trickster had snapped his fingers on the sitcom motel set. People were milling around in brightly coloured, 80’s winter wear and Sam was next to him, wearing a bright purple windbreaker, a headband, and a vaguely unimpressed expression. 

“Lookin’ fresh, Sammy,” Dean chortled.

“Speak for yourself,” Sam smirked, pointing at him. Dean looked down and, shit, Sam was right. He was wearing an aggressively ugly teal and pink ski jacket

“Where the fuck are we now?” Dean asked, looking around for signs of the trickster

“A vintage show or something?”

_This winter season, treat her to something special from Kay Jewelers._

Both brothers jumped at the sound of the simpering female voiceover.

_Let her know how much she means to you during the long, cold winter months._

“It’s commercials,” Sam said, relaxing back onto the bench once it was clear they were in no immediate danger.

_Now you can give her the warmth of codependent love, with the Supernatural collection! A beautiful range of Supernatural inspired pieces, sure to romance that special fan in your life._

Dean eyed his brother with an air of _what fresh hell is this?_ Sam frowned, folding his arms, pointedly watching the passers by. 

_Let her know you would literally kill for her with Kay’s selection of thoughtfully crafted earrings, rings, necklaces, and brooches featuring gorgeous solitaire gemstones wrapped within our signature, diamond-studded Anti-Possession Sigils._

“Must be uh…cutting away to show the crap.” Dean cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck.

Sam nodded, standing up and Dean felt his mood lift as he snickered at Sam’s fitted, acid-wash jeans. Sam rolled his eyes, grabbing a handful of snow and packing it into a ball. 

_And as always, you can count on Kay to hand select only the finest diamonds and 24 carat gold that truly say, I would sell my only soul to Hell for you!_

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

“I’m just playing my role, Dean, sorry!” He didn’t look very sorry as he smoked Dean in the chest with the snowball, ran up, and plopped back down with a big grin on his face.

Dean then got a tug that he should be taking something out of his pocket. “Oh, God, no,” he whined and reached into his jacket, bringing out a box. “C’mon, really?”

Sam glared daggers at him, grin evaporated. “ _I’m_ the- the _her_?”

“Looks that way, man. I don’t see anyone else coming over to the bench. Just play along, will yah?” He opened the box and presented it to Sam who had his bitch face plastered on to high heaven. It was a necklace with the pentagram from their anti-possession tattoo encrusted in tiny diamonds, with a larger diamond in the centre. “You're my weak spot.” Dean said loudly and stiffly, following the script what popped into his mind. 

“Christ, that thing is gaudy,” Sam wrinkled his nose.

“Just say your damn line.”

“Oh, honey…I love it. I feel so safe now,” Sam muttered flatly, bringing his hands up to his cheeks in mock surprise.

_Every kiss begins with Kay!_

The jingle sounded and Dean looked around. Nothing was changing. They said their lines, they did the blocking, yet they were still stuck on the bench surrounded by snow.

“Uh…” Sam began, but was interrupted by the jingle playing again: _Every kiss begins with Kay!_

“What gives? Why are we still here?”

“Beats me.”

_Every kiss begins with Kay!_

“Did you screw up your dialogue?”

When Sam remained quiet, Dean glanced over to him. His brother’s face was drained of colour, his eyes had the classic glint of realization about them.

_Every kiss begins with Kay!_

“Dean? I think…I think we have to….”

Dean stared at him incredulously until something slid into place. _Fuck._

“Absolutely not, no way!” Dean shot his arms in front of him, palms facing Sam as if he was trying to shield himself, while sliding further away from him on the bench.

_Every kiss begins with Kay!_

“We-we _have_ _to,_ Dean.” Sam stuttered, looking everywhere but at Dean. 

“Are you fucking serious, man?”

“Listen, I don’t like it any more than you do, but we have to get out of here!” 

Dean shook his head and rubbed his face. He knew Sam was right, but kissing his own brother was the last thing on earth he wanted to face. 

“Ok, it- it’s gonna be fine. I’ll just... give you a quick…quick peck…and then we can move on.”

Dean flushed despite the cold air. “Ew, Sammy.”

Sam sighed, glowering at him. 

_Every kiss begins with Kay!_

“Alright, alright! We fuckin’ heard yah!” Dean shouted up at the sky. “Ok, _fine_ , get your ass over here then,” Dean grumbled, stretching his arms across his chest one at a time, and cracking his neck.

“What are you doing?” Sam snorted laughter, scooting closer to Dean.

“Preparing, I dunno!”

“Ok just...don’t look at me and keep your hands to yourself.”

“Like I’d try to touch you,” Dean squirmed.

“Just keep still, idiot!”

Dean huffed staring at Sam. It’s not a big deal. Sam, _his brother_ , was just gonna give him a quick, dry peck on the lips, so what? Sam used to kiss him on the cheek all the time when he was little, it’s nothing.

_Every kiss begins with Kay!_

“Would you quit looking at me all surly and shut your damn eyes?”

Dean did as he was told, instantly feeling vulnerable. He jumped as Sam’s hand lit on his thigh.

“Easy, I’m just getting lined up.”

“I don’t have all day, Sam. My ass is starting to freeze off.” His heart was pounding stupidly. 

“Ok, ok...I love it. I feel so safe now,” Sam repeated. Dean sighed out his breath trying to steady his nerves. Warm, tightly drawn skin pressed lightly and fleetingly against his lips. The sensation was gone before he had time to fully register it. He opened his eyes feeling his stomach in his feet. Sam’s face was very close to his, bright as a tomato, eyes cast down to his gloved hands, fiddling with the purple fob on his jacket zipper.

_Every kiss begins with Kay!_

“Oh for _fuck’s_ sake!” Dean shouted. He grabbed his brother’s face without thinking, and pulled him in to plant a much more urgent kiss on his lips. Caught off guard, Sam’s lips were soft and slightly parted and after a little muffled noise of surprise, he _kissed back_. It felt...it felt...Dean’s brain was too gone to dwell on it. He slipped a hand around to the back of Sam’s neck and deepened the kiss, relaxing into him. The warmth of his brother’s velvety mouth and nose pressed against him felt soothing on his cold face, sending licks of tingling pleasure down his spine. 

Dean pulled back slowly, heart leaping out of his chest, skin tingling, already regretful of the frigid air hitting his moistened lips. Sam blinked at him, looking so red he might be having an aneurysm. Before Dean could say anything to him, before he could sort out his scrambling thoughts, Sam’s face was slowly swallowed by darkness as the commercial ended and faded away. 

* * *

Dean found himself in what looked to be an old, dilapidated house, not unlike ones they had hunted in countless times. Although his environment was familiar, panic flared up within him fast and hot.

“Sam!” 

“Dean! Over here!” His brother’s voice sounded close, calming Dean at once. He followed it to find Sam standing in the middle of what was once a living room. Sam was avoiding his gaze, his cheeks still ruddy. “Listen, uh...about what happ-”

“Sam, no,” Dean cut across him.

“We...we- uh...we had to sell it right?” Sam was steadily growing bright red again and was studying his shoes. 

“Are we out of TV land?” he deflected pointedly. In true Dean fashion, he was not ready to have this conversation. At least not until they figured out what was going on and whether they had played this game long enough. He looked around the room and noted the cans of red spray paint and folded up paper of different sizes in neat stacks on the floor.

“I dunno. It looks-”

_Is it ever hard to remember complicated sigil designs?_

“Son of a _bitch_!” Dean growled. Another voiceover. This time, one Dean recognized: that little trickster shit. 

He grudgingly grabbed a can, started spraying a design, and then stopped. He waited to see what else would happen. 

_Is it ever hard to remember complicated sigil designs?_

“Really ham it up like a real infomercial.” A grin quivered on Sam’s lips. Oh great, apparently to stop his brother from feeling embarrassed, all he had to do was humiliate himself.

Dean sighed then shrugged exaggeratedly, scratched his head, and generally made himself look as profoundly dumb as possible. “Why are these clips getting so oddly personal? Do you actually have herpes?”

“Bite me, Dean.” 

_Keep getting your ass kicked cause you can't finish sigils in time ?_

“That’s all you, chief”

Sam obeyed and started spraying a demon sigil on the wall. He was promptly grabbed from behind and thrown across the room by a guy roughly the size of a fridge, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. 

“Sam!” Dean yelled, charging at the guy who simply fled from the room. “You ok?” He asked, helping Sam up.

“The _fuck_? Where did that guy come from?” Sam panted, brushing dirt off himself. 

“I dunno!” Dean darted to the door and saw no sign of the man. “He’s go-”

_Introducing the Sigil Stencil! Stencils for making your sigil, rune, and trap making experience a breeze!_

They looked at each other perplexed. 

_Choose from over 40 designs! Made from durable, foldable, plastic-coated card stock so you can easily take them on any hunt and use them again and again!_

“That’s...that’s actually a great idea,” Sam commented, unfolding a stencil. 

_Just place where you need it, and fill the lines with spray paint or your own blood!_

Sam held it against the wall. “It’s tacky so it stays,” he said, genuinely impressed as he sprayed in the lines with paint. 

“Shit, that’s kinda awesome,” Dean agreed, picking up one for himself and using it on the wall. “Oh _come on_ ,” he sighed and rolled his eyes as his script popped into his head. “Now I don’t have to memorize hard sigils.” Dean said loudly and unhappily. “Why am I the dumb one?”

“No comment,” Sam smirked and Dean’s eyes dropped to his pursed amused lips. His brother was relaxed now, not embarrassed or worried and the whole room seemed to pause for a moment as Dean stared. “Wow, that really _was_ fast! Thanks Sigil Stencil!” Sam declared cornily for the commercial.

_But wait there's more! Order today and receive the Angel Sigil Package 20% off! Plus, if you act now, you’ll receive a case of Sigil Stencil Spray Paint, guaranteed to last 15% longer than ordinary spray paint, absolutely free!_

Dean shook his head, drawing his thoughts away from his brother's warm kiss, and picked up a can of pink spray, making a dash on the floor. “I sure do hate when my local store runs out of red!” He said with false enthusiasm, sarcastically swinging his fist in front of him.

_All this could be yours for three easy payments of 29.95!_

Sam bent down by the stencils and dramatically swept his hands back and forth like a model on The Price is Right, looking sheepish. 

_Don’t wait, order now!_

“And never struggle with sigils again!” they said in dispassionate unison. 

* * *

The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and Dean was on the porch of a quaint suburban house. 

“Fuck not again, Sam! Sammy!” he shouted, but heard nothing so he tried the door. Locked. Pounding commenced. 

Sam opened the door after a few excruciating, panic-stricken minutes, towel wrapped around his waist, hair soaking wet, looking self-conscious.

“Whoa, easy tiger, trying to get some attention, huh?” He couldn’t help but drag his gaze over his little brother’s fit body. 

“Shut up. What about you? You- you look…” Sam trailed off, looking Dean up and down.

Dean observed himself in the glass of Sam’s front door. He was wearing a white, ribbed tank top, skin tight cut-off jean shorts that hit mid thigh, big work boots, and a tool belt. 

“Oh God…is that a...” He brought a hand to his face.

Sam was shaking with silent laughter now, holding himself. “A moustache. You have a moustache!”

“Just keep a firm grip on that towel, ok big guy?” He flushed. It was real, growing thick out of his upper lip; not the peel off kind. _Great_.

“Are you the plumber?” Sam clearly enunciated his line. 

“You betcha. I’m here to check out your big pipe...the _fuck_?”

Sam looked alarmed presumably from what Dean had just said, and the fact that cheesy saxophone music started playing after his line. “Uh...what is this?”

_Casa Erotica presents...._

The sultry, whispered voice over had them both looking around wildly.

“Oh my _fucking_ God, Sammy, we’re in a porno!” Dean looked over Sam’s shoulder excitedly.

“Dude, why are you happy about this!” Sam said incredulously as Dean pushed passed him.

“Cause I’m obviously here to bang the missus of the house! Where is she? Was she in the shower with you?”

“Dean...there’s no one else here.”

“So she’s on her way.” 

“Maybe…” Sam shuffled his feet, towel slipping a bit lower.

“Just keep going, someone’s gonna show up,” Dean pressed, averting his eyes from the deep cut of Sam’s abs. He wondered briefly how low those carved lines went.

“Ok. Uh...It’s about time you showed up, I was getting...I was getting restless,” Sam said in a carrying voice. Dean blinked at him, nerves jolting straight to his gut. That didn’t sound good. 

“Why don’t you show me the problem then.” 

The music intensified as Dean followed Sam up the staircase, carefully avoiding looking up his very small towel. “The pipe that needs work is in my ensuite.” Sam said, gesturing awkwardly to the bedroom before leading Dean in. 

“Uh…” Dean shook his head as the script came to mind. This wasn’t fucking happening. “It’s uh...gonna cost extra if I do it in there.” He was getting really freaked out now. “Really, Sam? No lines about the wife? Girlfriend? Maid for God’s sake?” 

Sam was staring at the floor looking petrified. “Hurry up and finish before my wife gets home…” Sam muttered in a hushed voice.

_Plumbers Sucking Pipe 4._

So that was it. The voice over confirmed it. 

“Nuhuh, no _fucking_ way are we doing this, Sam! What kind of sick, twisted _fuck!_ ” Dean started backing away from his brother, eyes wide with panic, running his hands over his hair. 

“Dean, calm down.” Sam held out his palms placatingly.

“You-you calm _up_!

“That doesn’t make-”

“I said what I said!”

“Look...we...got through the kiss just fine.” Sam mumbled, pushing his wet hair out of his face, looking absolutely mortified. 

“Uh, news flash, this is a shit-ton more than just a _kiss_ , Sammy!” Dean spat.

“I don’t fucking like this either but you heard what Cas said, if we don’t play our roles we could get stuck in here forever!” His hands were on his hips, drawing Dean’s attention back to the hard lines disappearing below the towel. 

“Well that's just fine by me, Sam, cause doin’- doin’ _sex shit_ with _you_ sounds like a fate worse than death!” Dean snapped. His stomach squirmed, feeling the harsh lie as it left his mouth. 

Sam’s eyebrows were raised; pissed. Something else too. Hurt? “Well too fucking bad Dean, cause I’m not staying here to play house with you till eternity, just cause of your fragile masculinity.” He took a defiant step forward. “Now are you gonna check out my pipe or what?”

Dean gulped. “Whoa buddy, fragile- _what?_ ” Dean backed into the dresser. “It’s not- not the dude thing its- its- Sam, _no_.” Dean stammered, rattled. 

“Grow the fuck up and play your role. It’s just a quick blow job, we’ve done far weirder shit together.”

“Easy for you to say! I’m the fucking plumber! I’ve gotta- gotta,” Dean faltered. Where the fuck was all this assertiveness coming from? He didn’t know what the fuck to do with his arms.

“We slept in the same bed till I was a preteen, I’ve seen you half naked walking around every motel across the country,” Sam said, walking towards him steadily. “We’ve patched each other up and been tied up together on dozens of bad hunts.”

“Are you done?” Dean swallowed, mouth dry. 

“I’ve even heard you beating off more times than I can count. We’ve been too physically close our whole lives. There’s no such thing as personal space between us.” 

How could he talk about this so goddamn eloquently? It was as if Sam thought about this before. Dean’s heart was in his throat and he was very hot despite his scant clothing. His eyes were wide and he was scrambling to think. Sam was right again. They needed to get out, which meant they needed to play along. Dean was freaking out but he felt something else too. Not just fear. It _should_ be disgust. But it just wasn't…Sam was now inches from him and Dean felt like he was vibrating. He cleared his throat, looked his little brother in the eye, and growled low: “Show it to me then.”

Sam smirked a little shakily, and the draw of his lips made Dean sweat. “We’ll just get it over with quickly, ok?” Sam put his hand on the knot of his towel and tugged, letting it drop to his feet. 

Dean breathed deeply, eyes not wavering from Sam’s, scared to look down. Sam’s gaze dipped taking in Dean’s expression, his chest, lower. He hooked a finger on Dean’s belt. “You know...all this actually looks good on you...even- even this.” Sam leaned in and, after all that talk, shyly kissed Dean at the corner of his mouth, just under his coarse moustache. 

Dean closed his eyes and shivered. He turned his head, catching his brother’s lips with his own, kissing him properly. This time he knew how it felt; it felt fucking _good_ . Better than kissing your brother should ever feel. Better than kissing a _man_ should ever feel.

Sam pulled away wrinkling his nose. “Tickles.”

“Shut up, bitch.” He wrapped his arms around Sam’s bare back, pulling him against his chest, tipping his chin up to lick apart his lips. When his brother’s wet, silky tongue slid against his, a surge of arousal went straight to his cock, making it twitch under his jean shorts. He couldn’t stop a soft moan from pushing into Sam’s mouth. It seemed to spur Sam on. He shoved his weight into Dean, knocking tchotchkes over on the dresser behind him as they made out roughly and urgently. Dean’s hands rasped over the smooth planes of his brother’s back, down to the dip above his ass, holding him tight. Sam pulled back panting. “Dean, holy shit. I- I-” Dean agreed; this was fucking insane. 

“Let’s fucking get this show on the road.” He pushed his brother, walking him backwards to the bed as his lips sought out his long neck. He smelled familiar and warm; it made Dean’s heart leap. He tried to ignore the obnoxious music as he shoved Sam hard onto the bed and, christ, there he was sprawled, naked, hard, _huge_ . “ _Fuck,_ Sammy.” 

Sam flushed right along with Dean, a sheepish grin on his face. “C’mon man, don’t let me be naked alone.”

Dean yanked off his tank top and started at his belt but stopped. “I’m supposed to keep it on.” 

“Get over here, then.” Dean didn’t know whether Sam was saying dialogue or he was actually caught up in the fucked up, incredible thing that was happening to them. He knelt between Sam’s spread thighs and laid across him, feeling his brother’s cock pressing against his own hard-on through his jeans, tools jangling at his hips. 

He wasn’t there long before he was being pushed onto his back hastily by Sam, straddling him, grabbing the hammer, pliers, and wrenches out of the belt and tossing them onto the floor with a clang. “What kind of a plumber carries a hammer?” Sam smirked before dipping down to kiss Dean again.

Dean wanted to banter back but Sam started grinding his cock against his and biting down on Dean’s bottom lip. His brother was making the sweetest sound, thrusting in earnest, rubbing his cock over Dean’s jeans. “You’re so hot, baby.” Dean heard himself say, cock straining, trapped in his shorts, jealous of the friction his brother was enjoying. He slid his hands and grabbed Sam’s ass and, holy fuck, was it perfect. Hard and tight, so warm, so different from a woman’s soft curves and Dean loved it. 

“Oh, God, Dean, this- you-” Sam moaned. “I’ve- I’ve wanted-”

The music was getting loud and intrusive and Dean felt a pang of nerves, guessing that he probably needed to get things moving along. He pushed Sam off on his back, and rose to his feet, swaying slightly. He grabbed Sam’s ankles and yanked him to the edge of the bed. Sam sat up, eyes dark and lusty, hair mussed up sexily. Dean knelt slowly between his brother’s thighs, pushing them apart more to fit. Sam sucked in air and Dean saw his cock bob in his periphery.

Dean shook his head, dipping his chin in embarrassment as his script returned to him. “I see the problem now, this huge fucking pipe needs to get sucked.” Sam burst out laughing, throwing his head back. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, chuckles.” 

When Sam calmed, he looked down at Dean, heat seeping back into his hazel eyes. “Have you...Dean, have you ever done this before.” He was rather modestly covering himself with his hands, Dean very aware that Sam needed both to get the job done. 

“Have _you_?” Sam just shrugged and averted Dean’s gaze. Oh, that’s the very first thing they will be discussing once they get out of tv hell.

“I think I can figure it out. I’ve had many, many, _many_ blowjobs, Sammy.” Dean winked. The false confidence wasn’t helping the nerves that set up shop in his belly. But his cock was still throbbing despite the circumstances. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the worst thing ever.

Sam swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. “Then get to work, plumber.”

Dean placed his hands gingerly on Sam’s thighs, breathing deeply and finally looked at Sam’s cock fully. To say the thing was massive was an understatement. Thick and long with one hell of a big head. “Christ, you could put someone’s eye out with that thing,” Dean tittered nervously.

“Just...just do your best.” Sam cupped Dean’s jaw and the intimacy lit his skin up. Dean warmed himself up by kissing Sam’s inner thighs getting higher and higher, but clearly avoiding the goal. “Maybe, uh, maybe try touching it first? Before diving right in?”

Dean flushed again, huffed out a nervous breath, reached out and fisted Sam’s cock. This wasn’t that new. Dean knew how to stroke a cock and was great at it if he did say so himself. What _was_ new was Sam’s breathy sighs and the tension that shot through his long thighs. Dean looked up at his face and saw that his eyes had fallen shut, head tipped back. Sam was pretty gorgeous and it was Dean that was making him look like that. Dean spit in his hand to ease the glide, stroking his brother harder and faster, working the sensitive tip.

“Fuck, Dean, yeah.” Dean was mouthing and sucking Sam’s thighs with more authority now, leaving soft red marks trailing upwards towards his cock. Once he got to Sam’s balls, there was no turning back and he wasn’t a fucking quitter. He moved his hand to lick a hard, wet line from the base of Sam’s cock to the tip. It wasn’t bad. Just skin. But the sexy, little, surprised moan that came from Sam made Dean want to do it again. So he did and when his tongue got to the tip, he sucked just the head into his mouth, hard. “Teeth!” Sam bit out.

Oh, shit, right. Dean adjusted his lips and jaw and slid his mouth down over half of Sam’s length, gulping and swallowing, trying to get used to the sensation. Sam kept reaching out to touch Dean, but then dropped his hand as if he thought better of it. Dean suddenly decided he didn’t want Sam to think anymore. 

He sucked in his cheeks hard and started bobbing his head up and down slowly, earning a low keen from Sam. His fist was wrapped around Sam’s shaft, stroking the length he was working his way up to. Soon, he experimented with allowing Sam’s cock further and further into his mouth until it tickled his throat. His gag reflex lurched at first, but Dean took steadying breaths, forcing it to relax. 

“Your mouth is so fucking good, Dean. Jesus.” The praise sent a trill of pleasure through Dean, his ignored cock aching with want. As he sucked, he pressed the heel of his hand against his dick, noticing a wet patch on the front of his shorts, soaked through with precome. Fuck, he liked this. A lot. He liked Sam’s cock, his _little brother’s_ cock, in his mouth; hard, smooth, silky, and what it did to Sam to have Dean’s lips wrapped around it. 

He got braver and let Sam’s dick hit his throat with every bob of his head, sucking and licking, letting go of being shy about drool. He loved it when chicks drooled on his cock so he was probably putting on a good show. Sam was becoming less and less restrained. His hands rubbed over Dean’s shoulders and head, alternating between stroking and fisting his hair. His hips started lifting off the bed, counter thrust to Dean’s stretched lips. “Yeah, yeah, so good, so hot, big brother,” Sam groaned, wantonly. 

Something about that word, those taboo syllables, falling so filthy from Sam’s lips, made something inside Dean snap. He pulled off Sam’s cock to look up at him. “Fuck my mouth, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes were blown, completely wrecked, when he hooked his thumb behind Dean’s bottom teeth and pulled him back towards his dick. Sam thrust and plunged his cock back in starting shallow and getting more and more bold, fucking into Dean deeper, hitting his throat. 

Dean kept his lips tight and sucked his cheeks in for Sam. He felt weightless, careless, tethered only by his brother’s delicious cock and his big hands gripping his head. “You like that? When I fuck that cock-sucking mouth of yours? Huh?” 

_Yes, yes, God, fuck, yes._ He moaned around Sam’s enormous mouthful. His eyes were streaming, his jaw began to ache from the effort, throat swallowing and swallowing against the abuse, and he didn’t know how long he had been humping the bed, lust swirling tight and deep in his belly. 

“Fuck, Dean, fuck, I’m- I’m gonna come,” Sam groaned. He fucked a couple more merciless thrusts into Dean before pulling out and shooting his load all over Dean’s face and open mouth. He leaned back on his hands, panting. “Fuck s-sorry, I had to do it. You ok?”

“Sammy...Sammy, that was- _fuck_.” Dean croaked, looking up into his brother's blissed-out face, brain struggling to find purchase on the enormity of what just happened. 

“You look- God Dean, you look so good. So hot like that. You were so, so good. I can’t believe it.” Sam rambled as he reached down and swiped a thumb across Dean’s swollen lips, making him shiver. “Your turn?”

“I…” Dean looked down at his lap, heart hammering, trembling. “Jesus, I came.” He was a wet sticky mess in his shorts. 

Sam’s eye’s snapped wide. “That’s so fucking hot Dean. You liked it?”

“Fuck yeah, I liked it,” Dean grinned, rubbing his face on the bedspread. “It was...it was…”

The room and Sam were fading all around him as the saxophone blared. 

* * *

Night time, police lights flashing. Dean was still rubbing his face but with his bare hand and he was clean and moustache free. Sam was bent over, hands on knees still trying to control his breathing, wearing a suit and sunglasses like a douche. Was that The Who he was hearing? Here they fucking go again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the beta outoftheashes! 
> 
> I hope y'all had as much fun reading this as I had writing it! Let me know of other scenes you think would be fun ;)


End file.
